


Madman in a Box

by CavannaRose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Comics)
Genre: Angry Eyebrows, Gen, Gender non-specific Reader - Freeform, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grumpy Twelve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 09:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Reader works at Harrod's of London, until a barmy Scotsman sets everything on it's ear.





	Madman in a Box

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: "Is that my shirt?"
> 
> Twelfth Doctor/Reader

A madman in a flying call box had simply appeared in the middle of the shopping mall where you worked. With a thick Scottish accent and the angriest pair of eyebrows you'd ever seen, he'd breezed past you, muttering briskly about unwanted wives and past selves. As he made his way towards the exit, you realized the daft bugger was intending to leave his call box right there in the middle of your shop.

"Oi! Excuse me sir, but you can't park that there! It's against Harrod's policy!" Well, you weren't actually one hundred percent sure if it was against policy, but you knew for a fact that if your manager returned to find the monstrosity in it's present location that there would be penalties suffered, but you, not by the weird mumbling gentleman.

He paused, turning to look at you for the first time, brows beetling in a most frightening matter. "What was that? What did you say?"

His voice was harsh, words clipped and brusque, but you straightened your spine and gave him your most disapproving look. "I said you cannot park your Police Box in the centre of Harrod's Department Store, it is against policy and if it should remain I will have to have it..." you scrambled for something, anything, that you could do in this situation. "Towed." you ended, gesturing weakly towards the large blue box. Towed probably wasn't the right word, but now that it was out there you channeled more of your earlier confidence, nodding with more firmness than you had stated your intentions.

"Towed? You'll have my TARDIS towed?" Though the wild man never raised his voice, the tone and force of his words made you want to step back, but you couldn't be intimidated. You'd been left in charge for half an hour, and blast it you wanted to prove yourself trustworthy.

"Yes sir, I am afraid I will be forced to. It's directly in the centre of our new menswear display, and head office is very specific about the location of all items. Outdated police boxes are decidedly not within acceptable public display codes."

The man looked around for a moment, as if finally realizing where he was. "Harrod's? This isn't the Maldovarium?"

"Uhmm... No sir." Perhaps the poor thing was barmy, he certainly wasn't making sense.

"I could have sworn I set the destination for the Maldovar Market." He peered into your face, scowling darkly. "You're not lying to me, are you? This isn't some 52nd century joke?"

"No sir... you're in Knightsbridge... London, sir... and it's the 21st century."

Throwing his hands up in the air he stomped back towards the box, muttering in an indecipherably heavy Scots accent. Pulling out a key he opened the call box, pausing to look back at you. Suddenly his unpleasant features smoothed into a smile, and he tilted his head to one side in invitation. "You don't look overly busy, care to see something interesting?"

When your Nan had gotten dementia, the doctors had said it was very important not to upset her, even to go along with her delusions so long as they did not harm her or anyone else, and you were beginning to think the poor chap was suffering from a similar affliction. Harrod's had clear standards for aiding customers, and the bloke was in the store, even if he had yet to make a purchase. With a gentle smile, you stepped forward, keeping your voice calm. "That would be lovely, sir. Then maybe you could tell me if there was someone I should call for you..."

What you had been about to say faded away as he opened the door. Blinking a few times, you rubbed your eyes. Within the box was a panoply of blinking lights and strange equipment, but it appeared to go on far deeper than it should. Casting a suspicious look to the man, (was dementia contagious?), you turned and made a complete circuit of the blue box, "How... what... I..." He simply smirked in your direction as you scrambled for words, stepping through the door and beckoning you to follow. How could you not, with the world suddenly having been turned on it's side?

Stepping inside, you explored a room that was at least half again the size of the showroom floor you had both just left. Worse, there appeared to be more doors, and hallways inside, despite the exterior of the box showing no other exits. Finally, you had to acknowledge what was staring you in the face. "It's bigger on the inside."

With a satisfied smirk, the man closed the door behind you and strode to the blinking panel, turning dials and muttering at screens. Hesitantly at first, but more confident as curiosity took hold of you, you stepped further into the room, examining a series of tubes and wires that crossed the floor. If this was madness, it was certainly more interesting than you had anticipated. "How... how did you fit all this space in here?"

"Hmmm?" Responded the man, flipping a switch and making a satisfied noise. You were about to ask again when he pulled a lever, and everything shook, the air filling with a strangely grating noise as the bottom fell out of your stomach.

Unable to ask anything else, you clung to the edge of the centre panel, panic making your nostrils flare and your pupils dilate. Everything was shaking, and it felt like your spine was going to twist so far around that your head would pop off. When it finally stopped, you were a peculiar shade of green, sitting on the floor and wondering if your legs would even work should you make any attempt to stand.

Straightening the lapels on his jacket, the man strode briskly towards the door, pausing to look back. "Well, come along then, you. Let's go."

Pulling yourself upright on wobbly legs, you let the stubbornness your mother had always lamented take hold. "You wait just a second. Who are you? What is this? WHAT IS GOING ON!?!?"

The man raised a bushy eyebrow, face falling into a rather exasperated expression. "I thought that would be obvious, it's like you humans don't bother to listen to a thing that happens around you. I'm the Doctor, this is my TARDIS, and we're about to head out into the Maldovarium if you would stop shouting like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum."

Well, that was it then. You'd gone over the bend. Whatever mind-melting disease the crazy man had come into your shop with had clearly spread to you, and this was the reality you were about to spend the rest of your days in, while your body was probably sitting somewhere, rocking back and forth and drooling on itself. You looked around, took in his well maintained jacket and collared shirt, and then down at your polyester uniform. "If we're going out there, do you happen to have something more comfortable I could change into? Harrod's has strict rules about frequently outside establishments in their regulation uniform."

Sighing, he gestured faintly to one side of the control room. "First door on the left, second right, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on the left." One glance at his impatient face told you to move quickly, and so following his directions, you came into a rather fantastic looking room, though the way the floor dropped off at either side was a touch unnerving. There were garments from all kinds of historical periods everywhere, and though you handled the taffeta and muslin with envy, you settled on something that more closely matched what the madman, the Doctor, had been wearing.

Emerging as quickly as possible, you spread your arms and made eye contact with the grouchy lunatic who appeared to have kidnapped you. "Is this acceptable?"

He snorted, "Quite." Turning he opened the door to the box, a crowded scene with colours and sights you'd never experienced before barely visible past the man, before he turned and narrowed his eyes at you. "Is that my shirt?"


End file.
